HOFFMANN walks
up and down, dressed in a silk dressing-gown and slippers. The table
in the background to the right is laid for breakfast: costly
porcelain, dainty rolls, a decanter with rum, etc._
HOFFMANN
Are you satisfied with my wife's appearance, doctor?
DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG
She's looking well enough. Why not?
HOFFMANN
And do you think that everything will pass favourably?
DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG
I hope so.
HOFFMANN
[_After a pause, with hesitation._] Doctor, I made up my mind--weeks
ago--to ask your advice in a very definite matter as soon as I came here.
DR. SCHIMMELPFENNIG
[_Who has hitherto talked and written at the same time, lays his pen
aside, arises, and hands HOFFMANN the finished prescription._] Here ... I
suppose you'll have that filled quite soon. [_Taking up his hat, cane and
gloves._] Your wife complains of headaches, and so--[_looking into his
hat and adopting a dry, business-like tone_]--and so, before I forget:
try, if possible, to make it clear to your wife that she is in a measure
responsible for the new life that is to come into the world. I have
already said something to her of the consequences of tight lacing.
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